Andrea Millhouse Pt. 06

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"Randy, I'd like you to meet Andrea, Andrea, this is Randy," I said.

"Hello, Randy, it's a pleasure," Andrea said smiling and shaking hands with Randy.

"Likewise, Andrea" Randy replied, returning the smile.

We now began walking with Randy into the equipment yard, while Andrea and I sipped our coffees.

"Randy, I really feel bad about leaving this thing here so long, I'd only meant to leave it here a year but... well time seems to get away from us, sometimes." I said, a little sheepishly.

"It's not an issue Tim, and like I said on the phone, my kid ripped a tear in the right front fender with a backhoe a few years ago when he was moving stuff around in there but it's nothing that you and Ricky can't fix, I don't think." Randy said a little apologetically.

"If we have to, we'll just build a new fender, Randy." I said dismissively.

We continued walking through the yard with its worn out excavators, antiquated Euclid dump trucks and cable operated Caterpillar dozers scattered about. Randy had owned a construction company at one time and still had a lot of his obsolete equipment left from back in the day. He'd retired several years ago and truth be told, I think he still liked tinkering with the old stuff now and then. It also gave his adult kids and grandchildren a place to come and hide whenever they needed a break from the world, this I understood completely.

"You said that you were considering driving to Nevada with the car, Tim?" Randy now asked as we neared an old brown shed.

"Andrea and I considered it, Randy, but I think that I'll just pay Les Farr to haul it down to Seattle whenever he has an empty trailer headed south. That way Ricky and I can get the car ship-shape again and iron out any bugs that it might have, from sitting so long." I replied

"Probably be the best way to go, Tim, be nigh on to winter in Canada soon" Randy said as he dug into his pocket for the padlock's key.

After Randy unlocked the entryway door, we walked into the old shed and skirted around old hydraulic pumps, disassembled engines, starters, alternators and various other things that seem to magically accumulate over the years with the ownership of heavy equipment. The stuff was too good to throw away but not really good enough to use on anything that was going onto a revenue generating job, so in essence the stuff just sat there. Murphy's Law dictated that the moment it actually did go into the dumpster or metal recycler, part of it would then be needed, and at an exorbitant cost to replace. We walked up to the car and Randy pulled off the thick, dirty, lime green carpeting, protecting the car.

"Oooh MY!! ...Honey, it's beautiful!" Andrea exclaimed excitedly while grabbing my hand and squeezing it, once the car was uncovered.

"There she is, Andrea. I can get rid of this damn green carpet, now." Randy said, throwing it on the floor and wiping his hands together.

I suddenly felt a tremendous touch of remorse for having delegated the car to Andrea. But then again I reasoned, Andrea belongs to me, so really, I hadn't given up the car ...at least not entirely.

The car had all the allure of a beautiful woman and the long sweeping curves of the fenders and narrow hood were just as seductive as they always had been. Even in its current condition, the car screamed class. It "looked" like a hotrod and had from the time it had left the Ford factory, eighty five years ago.

"Nineteen thirty four, five window Ford coup, Andrea. Ricky and I always called it a 'Deuce Coup' because the initial design was nineteen thirty two." I explained.

"...The doors open backwards?" Andrea asked, slowly turning the driver's door handle and gently opening the door now.

"Yes, suicide doors, honey. I fabricated locking pins on the inside so that when you're driving they can't open, see?" I replied and pointing to the pin coupler.

"Oh, uh-huh, and Lovey chose the color?" Andrea asked, looking at me.

"Yes she did, honey." I replied nostalgically.

"Aw jeeze, Tim ...I forgot to mention it... I'm so sorry for your loss, buddy. Everyone loved your mom, including me." Randy now said, looking at me.

"It's ok Randy, and thanks, she was quite fond of you as well." I said reaching over and squeezing Randy's shoulder.

"I think, I just heard my Grandkid drive into the yard, Leland told me that he'd meet us here. We'll get the nine-sixty over here in a minute and drag this thing out for you. Oh, by the way, Tim, that left rear tire leaks pretty fast but it should hold air long enough for us to move the car outside" Randy said, pointing to the tire as he walked toward the overhead garage door and opened it on his way out.

"Oh, OK, Randy" I replied, looking at the tire.

More sunlight now spilled into the dingy little shed as Randy opened the overhead door now and I could see the car more clearly in the light. The right front fender did have a fairly pronounced "wow" in it and there was a nasty ten inch tear in the metal, similar to an open sardine can, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed, I noticed. I unfastened the passenger's side hood latches and raised the right hand side of the hood. The car's hood opened in halves, parallel with the car, itself. After gently hinging the hood half and setting it to rest, I reached for the dusty fan blades and began to rock the fan and crankshaft in a back and forth motion.

"Why are you doing that, babe?" Andrea asked curiously.

"To see if the engine has rusted stuck from sitting for so long, honey. Apparently she's going to run - the engine still turns." I said with satisfaction.

Memories of my youth now began to ascend upon me as I looked at the car with Andrea. I remembered seeing the Ford coup for the first time, at seventeen, and the mind blowing obsession that it had generated within me, a feeling which apparently hadn't left me even as of yet, now at fifty five years of age. For seven years I had bartered and pleaded with its owners, to sell, trade or a combination of both. The old Ford really hadn't been much more than an empty shell when Ricky and I had finally secured it and drug it home. I had then purchased an old nineteen sixty eight Ford Mustang with a two eighty nine V-8 and three speed.

The Mustang had been wrecked beyond repair and destined for the scrapyard when I had acquired it but the engine and running gear had been fairly sound. Thinking back now, I think I gave three hundred dollars for the Mustang - there were lots of old Mustangs laying around back then and the old white one which I had purchased came along at the right time. Ricky and I had then retrofitted the Mustang's running gear into the Ford coup and sold-off the remainder of usable Mustang stuff, some of the bits and pieces were probably still out there floating around at swap-meets someplace, I surmised. I heard the snort of a diesel engine as Randy walked back into the shed, carrying a yellow tow strap.

Reaching into my coat now, I said "C'mere, Randy" as I walked toward him and shoved an envelope into his front shirt pocket.

"Tim, you don't have to do that" Randy replied, sincerely.

"Randy, this thing has been cluttering up your shed for years and it's only fair that I give you something. There isn't much in that envelope but you should be able to take Donna and the grandkids out to dinner, at least" I replied, patting Randy's shoulder.

"Thank you, Tim, that's very thoughtful of you, Donna would like that." Randy replied and handing me the tow strap.

I bent down and hooked one end of the tow strap to the car's frame as Andrea got in behind the wheel of the car and began daydreaming.

"I can't wait to see it outside in the light!" Andrea exclaimed to Randy.

"Leland will be over here in a minute with the loader and we'll get it outside where you can really see the car, Andrea." Randy said as he now began moving miscellaneous stuff from behind the car and shoving it to one side.

"Hey, what's up with the C4, Randy?" I suddenly asked, looking over at the stuff he was moving.

"It's burnt-up, want it?" Randy asked.

"Yeah, let's throw it in the trunk, Randy." I said in reply.

"What is that thing?" Andrea asked looking over at the transmission.

"It's an automatic transmission that will fit the car, Andrea." I said as I opened the trunk of the old coup.

Randy and I then lifted the transmission into the trunk as Andrea continued to sit in the car and began texting.

"My kid burnt-up this transmission when he had it in his car, it's probably rebuildable, Tim" Randy said, once we had placed it in the trunk.

"I'll get Dayton to look at it, Randy. He's pretty good with automatics." I replied, wiping my hands on a rag.

"He's still in Phoenix, then?" Randy asked.

"Yeah he says he's done, once and for all, with this cold country up here, Randy." I replied.

"I totally understand" Randy said, nodding his head.

"...Um, where can I get rid of this, Tim?" Andrea asked disgustedly as she held out one of Susan's bra's with the tip of her finger.

"Oh sorry, here I'll take it, honey." I said as Andrea rolled her eyes at me.

I threw the bra into a nearby plastic garbage can, a little embarrassed.

"It has a gear shift?" Andrea asked, looking at the shift tower and moving it back and forth.

"A three speed, for now, yes. I'll put an automatic transmission in it for you honey." I replied.

"I've got another C4 transmission core you can have, Tim." Randy said.

"Sure, we'll take it too, Randy." I replied.

"I know how to drive a gear shift, Tim" Andrea now insisted, looking at me from inside the car.

"I know honey but I think you'll enjoy the car a lot more with an automatic and the C4 is a good set-up for the two eighty nine." I replied.

"The motor is a two eighty nine?" Andrea asked.

"Yes it is." I said.

The nine sixty loader now pulled up to the door then and Randy hooked the opposite end of the tow strap onto the bucket.

"Hey Tim, how ya doing, buddy?" Leland asked as he leaned out the driver's door and moved a hydraulic lever, setting the loader's front-end bucket gently down onto the ground behind the Ford coup.

"Hey Leland" I said smiling.

Leland left the engine running and climbed down from the loader cab then and we shook hands.

Leland was a thin and lanky kid of about eighteen years of age and confident that he could do anything. Leland and his brothers had learned how to operate Caterpillar dozers and excavators about the same time as they'd learned to ride bicycles and all of them were quite good at moving earth and finishing a grade, something which is much harder to do than it looks. The brothers could also repair most types of equipment and were well on their way to becoming highly skilled card carrying operators. Andrea now walked up and stood beside me and Leland took definite notice of her.

"Leland, this is Andrea, honey this is Leland, one of Randy's grandkids." I said introducing the two as they shook hands.

We moved the old Ford into Randy's heated shop whereupon Andrea and I took the next few days and began working on it in preparation for the car's transport to Seattle, whenever Les found time to haul it there. A compression test confirmed my suspicion that the little two eighty nine was very tired with only seventy five PSI on number three cylinder, the rest of the cylinders weren't much better but we did start the engine and for all practical purposes it ran fairly well. I tried to move the car under its own power but discovered that the clutch was blown - reminding me why I had initially parked the car in the first place, years before. At the time I had simply been too busy to replace the clutch and had by then, lost most of my interest in the car for the time being.

On our second day of tinkering Andrea and I replaced the clutch and also installed a new water pump, the car would now start and drive and the brakes would stop the car well enough to enable Les to load the old Ford onto a flatbed trailer via Randy's loading ramp within the equipment yard. I would overhaul the engine and brake system during the winter months once we got the car to Ricky's, I decided. I also planned to retrofit an automatic transmission into the car for Andrea and repair the damaged fender.

After securing the car's title and registration inside the glove box, Andrea and I bid Randy and his family good-bye and promised to stay in touch. Presently it was now six thirty PM and Andrea and I were both tired and dirty from working on the car. We stopped and got a couple Subway sandwiches on our way back to my condo and ate them in the bath tub together. After eating, Andrea donned her sunglasses and I began trimming her hair while we were still in the tub together. I liked Andrea with longer hair which she agreed to keep provided that I maintain it with regular trimming and styling which I was very good at and also enjoyed immensely.

"...Men like a woman with hair that gives the impression she just rode a Harley and wants to do nothing but lay around and screw now." I quietly said in a soothing hair-stylist salon voice as I trimmed a few of Andrea's split ends.

"Did you think of that all by yourself, Tim, or hear it from some hillbilly on the C.B. radio?" Andrea asked sarcastically.

"Just because you've been sleeping your hair stylist on a regular basis doesn't mean you can get a smart mouth now, Andrea Millhouse" I replied in reference to myself, with a final fling of her hair.

Andrea grunted and removed the sunglasses and set them aside.

...For the last twenty years of her life, I had styled Mom's hair as well as Susan's. I had been cutting my own hair for just as long and I had even cut Ricky's a few times. Andrea had marvelous, thick and wavy hair, like Mom, and Andrea actually received a fair amount of compliments on my cut and styling. Once a week I would drench Andrea's hair in cold press virgin olive oil and wrap it in a towel for her to sleep in. Then in the morning, with much fanfare, I would wash her hair and the olive oil would leave her hair amazingly silky and manageable. The olive oil was also very healthy for the hair and Andrea also took hair, skin and nail vitamins.

Andrea drank Aloe Vera juice and the omega three cod liver oil which we both drank was said to be good for the hair too. I currently had Andrea's hair styled by parting it in the middle, with her bangs long and swept back over the sides of her head, giving her a natural and untamed "biker-chick look" -Andrea's hair drove me wild and she knew it. I was also aware that "grooming" one another was a healthy form of bonding between mates - chimpanzees and large cats within the wild were notorious for pampering each other with this form of interaction which also created a calming effect as an added bonus, it was so with Andrea and I.

Andrea's hair was a natural bluish, black in color with natural grey highlights which I had been styling for several months now. "You want my hair long? Fine, then you can be the one to deal with it. Long hair is a lot of work, Tim." Andrea had said to me. To her surprise, I had eagerly taken her up on her offer.

"It's hard work, being a movie star, love." I now said to Andrea as she stood in the bath water, facing me and rolling her eyes at my comment.

"You're a shit, Tim." She replied evenly while reaching for my hand to help me up.

Andrea was exceptionally attractive - a fact which wasn't lost on her but something she rarely dwelled on either. She wore a "fake" wedding band to keep potential suitors at bay and would talk as if I were her husband whenever in public places with strangers. I understood this.

My Aunt Elsie had always felt that her own extraordinary good looks were in many ways, a curse. She had hated the undue attention given her by shallow and self centered men in restaurants, elevators and grocery stores. She could also put them quickly in their place with strong admonishments if their advances became too forward. Mom and Aunt Elsie had both carried mace on their key chains, as did Andrea.

Thinking back now, I remembered once when Mom, Ricky and I had actually been thrown out of a local car dealership in Seattle when a salesman had gotten a little too forward with Mom one summer. I had been looking at car brochures when I had heard a commotion behind me, involving Ricky. I had quickly walked over to where Ricky and Mom were standing as they faced the salesman. Mom herself, being afraid of what Ricky might actually do, was firmly holding Ricky's upper left arm with both hands and pleading with Ricky to please stay calm. "Tim, you better get between me and this fat sonofabitch or I'm gonna fuck him-up right here and now, brother." Ricky had said, trembling with rage at something the salesman had said to Mom.

Walking over and standing close to the salesman then, who was himself a big man, I had quietly said "Yo dude, I don't know what you said to our mother, and it's better that I don't, but you really should go somewhere else quickly now." I had then nodded my head and given an all-knowing wink to the man, who was also trembling now at the sight of Ricky's red face and massive tattooed arms.

Upon my suggestion the salesman had then promptly turned and fled.

A few minutes later the manager of the dealership had discreetly yet very politely, asked us to leave and not return. Walking out of the dealership, among a throng of curious on-lookers, I had then taken Mom and Ricky, one in each arm, and laughingly said "Ricky I love you so much brother, you made that fat fucker piss his pants, did you see that? - excuse my language, Mom." My comment had loosened-up Ricky and a few minutes later I had him and Mom both, laughing over the incident. "Blessed are the peace-makers" Mom had quoted from the Bible, in reference to me, with genuine relief in her voice. She had then pulled me closer and leaned her head against me as we had walked toward the car, thankful that Ricky or I hadn't flattened the salesman and gone to jail that day.

In all honesty, the salesman had probably just been an arrogant and lonely man with no self esteem or social tact. I still, to this day, didn't know what he had said to Mom but I would imagine she had politely declined an offer for dinner whereupon the salesman had then become insulting within earshot of Ricky - a grave mistake on the salesman's part...

Mom had known throughout her entire life that she was attractive to men and she had always been gentle in the declining of dinner invitations. Ricky and I both understood this scenario - hey, you can't blame the guy for asking her out ...but there were also some lines that should never be crossed. Insults or profanity at a declined dinner date were two examples. "If a woman declines your invitation to dinner or a movie, then be gracious about it- you could, possibly get another chance later if you're a gentleman to start with" Mom would tell Ricky and I, growing up.

In Mom's case, there had been literally hundreds, if not thousands of dinner dates offered to her over the years yet she had selected only a very few of these suitors as companions. The men that Mom did choose to allow into her life, regardless of their looks, size or bank accounts had all been gentlemen. In Mom's eyes, the most attractive attribute any man could ever have was genuine kindness for others. Very little else had ever mattered to her. Ricky and I had actually befriended a few of Mom's male friends over the years but in reality none were ever more than platonic friends, I don't believe. Only one or two, I suspected, had ever been more than rainy-day short term lovers. Knowing of Rick Sheffield now it was my belief that after his loss, Mom had never loved wholly ever again. Rick Sheffield had been her one and only true love within this life and no one could or ever did replace him.